


Schroedinger's Bugs

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Nero Wolfe - Rex Stout
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Quiet Sex, The Doorbell Rang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 19:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18505969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: Wolfe's house may or may not be bugged by the FBI. Archie's room, specifically, may or may not be bugged by the FBI.Saul isn't supposed to be in Archie's room, but he is, so he and Archie will have to keep quiet... just in case.(takes place during The Doorbell Rang.)





	Schroedinger's Bugs

It was a case that would end up with me and Saul and Fred and Orrie pointing our guns at the FBI, which was certainly a thrill and a day to remember, but in the meantime, it was a tricky situation. Saul, Fred, Orrie and two random actors, stuck in the house with me and Wolfe and Fritz, eight men pretending there were only two of them there. We weren’t sure whether the house was bugged or not—we were nearly certain no one had gotten into it yet—but we were operating on the assumption that we were bugged because better safe than sorry. You have to play it safe when dealing with the FBI.

To keep up the farce, only Wolfe, Fritz and I could talk; Saul, Fred, Orrie and the actors could not, although they cheated sometimes with a low whisper. Can’t blame ‘em; I would’ve done the same thing in their situation. In fact, a couple times I pretended to be talking to myself or to Wolfe when in fact I was talking to Saul. Wolfe was annoyed at that. He knew I liked chatting with Saul about as much as anything, but to put our pretense in jeopardy for it was more monkeying around then he liked. Saul gave me a couple quelling looks, but they were the kind of quelling looks that were actually encouragement.

“How do you like the duck?” I asked (in theory) Wolfe, who had in fact already expressed his opinion at length, while looking straight at Saul. Saul didn’t exactly grin, because his mouth was full. But he gave two thumbs up. I said, “So glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I always enjoy Fritz’s cooking,” Wolfe said pointedly. I rolled my eyes.

Fred and Orrie and the actors all mimed appreciation as well, and I mimed appreciation of their appreciation. Then I said, “Yeah, and I always like seeing you enjoy Fritz’s cooking.” I often told Saul he should come by more, not just when there was a case, but he said it would be unprofessional. “You know, maybe it’s the cooking, but you’ve been looking really good lately. Kind of slick.”

Saul really did send me a quelling look at that, though it was also a little fond. Fred and Orrie and Wolfe probably all knew that Saul and I were complicated, but it was better not to make them think too hard about just what went on between us. So we were discreet, but sometimes I couldn’t help but test the limits.

As for Wolfe, the man I had supposedly complimented, his only response was a disgusted, “Pfui.”

* * *

Our program wasn’t really on until tomorrow evening, when we would supposedly be out of the building, so they were all staying the night. This is how the rooms went: Wolfe of course in his own room, alone. The actors sharing the guest room. Fred and Orrie taking the couches in the parlor. And Saul up in my room, alone. If anyone had asked me why Saul got his own room I would have been very curt, I would have told them he rated it. Everyone was under the gag order, though, so no one did.

In theory I was sleeping on the couch in the office, watching the safe in case of a break-in. And I did, I really did. I only took less than a half hour’s break; that was enough.

I went up to my room casually, didn’t bother knocking on the door but went right in. Saul was there, sitting in bed and reading in his pajamas. Now at this point in my life I have seen Saul in in any number of costumes, everything from a nice suit (the usual) to the dirtiest clothes imaginable, to the one or two times I’ve seen him pretend to be a woman. Still, it’s an interesting sight, Saul in his pajamas. They have blue pin stripes on them, and he bought them for himself. So you look at him in his pajamas and think to yourself: This man, in his most private moments, at his most vulnerable hour, is a blue pin stripe sort of guy.

When he saw me he shook his head. It wasn’t to send me away, it was to show me how dumb he thought my antics during dinner were. I grinned and closed the door and got onto the bed with him.

Now I personally think if I were the FBI and keeping a close eye on me and Wolfe, the office would be the best bet for anything case-related, but my bedroom wouldn’t be a bad place either. I’m known for being a man around town and not unattractive to women. Say they wanted to blackmail us or ruin my name; what could be better than to keep an eye on my personal affairs? So although I’d sentimentally installed Saul in my room, it was no safe haven. We would have to be quiet.

This was okay, I figured. We were used to it. Half our brief rendezvous had occurred during stakeouts—maybe not half—and for the rest, we were used to needing secrecy regardless. I once jerked Saul off in the bathroom of a police station with an officer just outside the door. He held up admirably. I figured he could handle tonight just as well.

Romantic that I am, I started with a kiss. Saul had shaved and I could smell the aftershave on him, but I kind of missed the scratch of his five o’clock shadow. He probably was getting that scratch from me; I’d had no time for hygiene with the schedule Wolfe had me on, not today. But scratching isn’t loud enough for a bug to pick up on. I kissed him slowly and carefully, with all my art, and I unbuttoned the buttons of his pajamas.

Saul has kind of a hairy chest. I combed my fingers through it, and I must admit, I did not resist the temptation to poke him in the ribs. He did not squeal like a little baby, but grabbed my wrist and raised his eyebrows. I shrugged. But I let him keep a hold of my wrist for too long; he turned it at such an angle that I almost gasped, and forced me onto my back. Then he got on top of me. He pinned my shoulders to the bed, but gently. Then he released his grip to take off his pajama shirt all the way—having it half on and half off was no good.

Having lost the high ground, I cheated and went straight for the kill, palming his dick through his pajama bottoms. I stroked at it lightly, carefully, looking him in the eyes as I did so. His expression was strained, but he didn’t make a single noise. In fact, I think I gasped a little—seeing Saul in that kind of state does something to me, embarrassing but it does—so overall, I was definitely losing the game between us.

But I’m sure the FBI would know better than to think much of a single man gasping in his own bedroom, so I wasn’t too worried.

When Saul came, he did gasp a little, and his body shuddered, and when he rolled off me and slumped on the bed, the flop did make a little noise. But my bed springs aren’t squeaky. I ran a fond hand through his hair and murmured, quietly enough that I was confident any bug wouldn’t pick it up, “Point to Goodwin?”

We have sort of a points system going. It’s complicated; I won’t explain it right now.

Saul pinched me, but he was clearly content. He gestured at the door.

I gestured at my pants, my current state which he had not taken care of.

He sighed. It wasn’t an audible sigh, just a visible release of breath. I don’t know whether he actually meant to send me away unsatisfied or if he just wanted to fuck with me. Then he stuck his hands down my pants and got to work. I was finished a lot faster than he was. Too much built up energy. And I think I did breathe a little heavily, but I stuck my hand in my mouth when I came, so I didn’t do anything too loud or embarrassing, just dented the skin on my palm a little. Regardless, Saul looked extremely smug. We were now back to being even. I guess I was pretty okay with that though.

And then, of course, having a beautiful man in my bed, all mine for the taking, I had to go back down to the office to guard the safe. This is the life I lead, working for Nero Wolfe. On the day I inevitably quit, remember I had good cause.

But the whole thing did end with me sticking a gun in the face of an FBI mook, relieving him of his badge and essentially telling him to go fuck himself. So on balance I’d have to say I was pretty satisfied.

**Author's Note:**

> I just was watching the Nero Wolfe TV show with a friend, specifically The Doorbell Rang. It's such a good episode. So, this is the result. I hope you enjoyed.  
> Comments would be much loved :)


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